November | 2016 | Toula Mavridou-Messer

Help.

Help!

Help?

HELP!!!

I desperately need help but I don’t know how to ask. Who to ask? What to ask for?

My life is spiralling out of control and however smart I am (and I am) and however strong I am (and I am), there comes a point when enough is enough.

There is only so much constant stress a human being can deal with in one lifetime and just when I think I have reached that limit, something else comes hurtling towards me that needs dealing with.

These are not small things, oh no.

These are things that if most people had just one to deal with it would wipe them out. Things that most people would deal with, with the help of their families and friends – not just providing helpful words and suggestions but truly helping; rolling up their sleeves and getting stuck in and still it would be devastating.

Many of you have heard about these things before and may be bored or irritated by me mentioning them again – if you are one of those lucky enough to live a charmed life, read no further. You will not understand that these things fundamentally affect you for life. Or indeed, me for life.

It is not a choice to suffer, to leave the past behind me, let it go and move on, forgive and forget and any other ridiculous meme material. Trauma (PTSD) is not just for Christmas it’s for life.

Perhaps because you cannot see my battle scars you incorrectly assume there are none, or those that exist are so fine that they are barely visible, then you are just not seeing what is front of you.

Some of my battles are listed below:

childhood sexual abuse that went on for 15 years from the age of 5, much of it on a daily basis from the age of 10. Please think of a 5 year old that you know right now and really understand what I am saying – these are not just words on a page.

a childhood in care from 6 weeks of age with 4 foster mothers in the first year

losing an entire life (people, surroundings, things) overnight at the age of 10

no extended family to reach out to: grandma mentally unwell and a hoarder/ grandfather a blind alcoholic. Both now dead.

being beaten

being attacked by a paedophile other than the one in your own home

being sexually assaulted in the street

being in two car crashes in the space of an hour – the second one causing your car to spin three times

having your home broken into and smashed to pieces….whilst you were still in it. Alone. The same broken house you were still in alone after the police had left.

receiving a letter saying that your mother, your only relative, had tried to commit suicide and that she was now living in a mental hospital

watching the NHS destroy your mother with an incorrect diagnosis and the wrong drugs rendering her incapable of ‘living’

watching your mother almost die twice in one year – whilst also losing more than 50% of her memory – whilst battling with the NHS to help you, which they chose not to do and instead closed ranks against you

not being able to see or speak with your mother because her abusive paedophile husband won’t let you

suffering four miscarriages – one of which resulted in a doctor removing the dead foetus from inside you without any anaesthetic

meeting your father for the first time when you are 36 years old, only to be told 4 days later by his doctor that he has just 3 weeks to live

Trying to create a happier life abroad, to some extent relying on the kindness of others for support and contacts to get your life up and running from scratch – when you are competing with people who have lived there all of their lives, to just get a foot in the door – all whilst learning how you get a gas supply, getting a new driving license and unravelling the mysteries of health insurance…and everything else required to live, that everyone else around you has accumulated over a lifetime.

You learn that some of the people you trusted are not to be trusted and that you were naive through circumstance and need, which leaves you feeling terrified and even more alone than you already are. It also leave you feeling angry and confused.

After spending every penny you have saved and struggling through hell to get your foot on the first rung of the ladder, you have to leave it all behind because your mother has lost 30lb in 3 weeks, or your immigration lawyer hasn’t filed your paperwork yet and it’s now 6 month late…

Going back and forth means you have lost your ‘place’ and many friends in your home town and also in your chosen town.

Never mind, you think – we will do all we can with what we have available and start to make a life for ourselves and you do – when overnight your life changes beyond recognition. Again.

You are now looking after a mother who did not look after you.

You are keeping safe a mother who did not keep you safe.

You are living a life you detest because you are needed here and yet that doesn’t make it feel any less awful.

Day by day your life gets smaller.

Day by day your dreams get smaller.

Day by day the screaming in your own head gets louder and louder and you are worried that one day it will escape from inside your head to outside of you and once it does it won’t ever stop.

Then there are all the other ‘normal’ things that people deal with, such as ended relationships, partners cheating, friends letting you down, being bullied at work, financial instability and so on – they have all had to be dealt with too.

Then an email pops into your inbox and you see that it’s from close ‘family’ – family who have never given a damn about you. From people you haven’t seen in almost 30 years and do not speak the same language…and it starts with them asking whether your mother is better?

The email then goes on to explain that there is a court case in a week in Greece and that your demented mother owes money, a debt that has been accruing for 15+ years…and when you email them with questions you never hear back from them.

Now I am dealing with a court case which I know nothing about, in a language I do not understand. It would be stressful enough if it was a situation I had created myself but for some reason because I am dealing with it on my mother’s behalf, I am more stressed. In fact, my heart is constantly pounding out of my chest and I don’t know who to trust or who to turn to. It’s costing money we don’t have.